Pilgrimage
by mousestalker
Summary: The Blight is over and the victory won. Wouldn't a nice trip to Haven be in order?


Pilgrimage

Brother Genitivi was still limping. His head reeled from the repeated blows he had received when he was blindfolded. The villagers were all dead. Everyone who knew where the Sacred Ashes of Andraste were located were all dead. It had been a long day. Rica Tabris wiped her blades clean before returning them to their sheaths.

There was a Blight to stop, of course. To do that they had to see if this lyrium infused dust had healing properties. The Tabris family could definitely profit assuming they survived the Howe purge and the Blight.

Ten years later, Haven.

Brother Widden stepped past the small guard force of templars and entered Haven proper. He had heard stories of course, but this was his first time in the most 'sacred small city in Denerim'.

The survivors from the Warden attack had rebuilt the village. They kept to themselves, under the watchful eyes of templars and chantry priests imported from outside. They mostly fished in the lake. Some few had gardens that grew poor vegetables in the rocky soil.

The rest of the village was extremely colourful. Hordes of elves ran little shops out of booths or flimsy wooden buildings. Every inch of Haven was painted one or more primary colours. Signs overhead screamed "Aunti Adre's Discount Relics", "Mad Mithra's House of Savings" and the ever popular "Happy Holy House of Healing (40% off)". Elven barkers cajoled, summoned or demanded the throngs of pilgrims to partake of their particular brand of souvenir.

Brother Widden peered inside a less popular shop (Relandra's Reliquary). An elderly elven woman greeted him. "How may I help you young ser? Every item is certified to have been touched by Andraste's holy ashes. Every item is a blessing and a boon bestowed to us by the Bride of the Maker, herself."

The brother excused himself and looked carefully at the traffic. Throngs of pilgrims moved excitedly from one concession to the next. The priests and templars who patrolled the street and alleys uniformly moved in a kind of daze as they sought out heresy.

Unfortunately the prior Grand Cleric did not consider 'Andraste ashtrays', Sacred Urn drinking cups, Havard shield coasters, Maferath brand marital aids or Cathaire meat pies (an ash in every bite!) impious.

When the Grand Cleric granted a perpetual license to the Tabris family of Denerim, she apparently did not know that every third elf in Denerim was named Tabris. How could she? No one ever used last names when addressing elves. And now it looked as though the entire Tabris family had relocated to the Frostback mountains.

Widden had seen enough. He needed to speak to the Hero of Ferelden. He also needed lunch before he did so. He headed for the nearest restaurant (Cyrion's), Amongst the noise and the colours it looked relatively quiet and dignified. He shrugged off the imprecations of a truly demented real estate salesman (what, exactly, was a time share?) and entered.

Widdens first impressions were good. The staff were all elves, but they didn't shout, hector or plead. The walls had to be sturdy as all the street noise vanished. He was greeted by a very distiniguished elf with impeccable manners.

"Welcome to Cyrion's, ser. Will you be dining with us today? The salmon is very fine as is the lamb. We have some excellent local vegetables as well."

The Brother allowed himself to be led to a small table, which was nicely laid out with clean silverware and linens.

"We are honoured to have a Brother with us today. Will you be joining the Chantry here permanently?"

He gathered his thoughts. "No, I'm here to talk to the Hero of Ferelden. The new Grand Cleric is concerned about the concessions here."

He realized he was ravenous. "I'd like the lamb, the mixed local vegetables, bread and an ale, please"

"Of course, ser".

The food arrived in due time and was excellent. The vegetables were surprisingly noteworthy. They were crisp and tasty, some being known to him but some of the greens he had never seen before.

Well fed, rested and refreshed, Brother Widden strode from the restaurant. It was time to negotiate. His superior had made it clear she wanted the Tabris' family to agree to human competition and the Chantry to get a bigger share.

He walked past where pilgrims were being hooded for the long wagon ride up the mountain to the temple itself. Ahead was a small, well built stone house that was unmarked in any way.

An armed elf inquired as to his business asked him to wait, then accompanied him to small office. The woman behind the desk rose, shook his hand and introduced herself. "I'm Rica Tabris. How may I assist the Chantry today?"

"My name is Brother Widdens. I have been charged by the Grand Cleric herself to remedy certain imbalances in your concession rights."

"Why?"

He had heard that the Gray Warden Commander could be blunt. He would return it in spades.

"Because you took advantage of an old woman's frailties and the situation in general. When you extorted your concession privileges she was already quite old. No one knew that the Ashes were really here. No one really believed Brother Genitivi. And we thought that even if the Ashes were here, Brother Geneitivi could lead us to them."

"So you dislike being out thought by an elf? You also left out the bit about how I slew an archdemon and ended the Blight. Has your gratitude run that thin?"

"The Ashes are greater than mere contract rights. They are the sacred remains of Andraste! How dare you use them as part of a bread mix!"

"I seriously doubt anyone of the cookies, cakes or breads have any real Ash in them. Given what I charge for actual Ash, I doubt anyone could afford to be so profligate."

"And that is another thing! You reject all Chantry approved medical cases for free Ash."

"I have approved the required number of free cases per our agreement. No where did I ever say that you could choose the objects of my charity."

"But you only use it for elves!"

"Elves get sick as well as humans, you know. And given how poor and unhealthy the Alienage is, it's hardly surprising that the neediest cases are there."

"In your opinion."

"In my judgment. It's my decision to make."

"We want... Excuse me. Where is the nearest jacks?"

She looked amused and empathetic at the same time. "Out that door, across the yard and to the left. It has a dwarven rune on the door."

The Brother hurried away at a crouching trot.

An hour later he returned.

"Where were we? We want a renegotiation."

"Ah, of course. You removed Shartan's words from the Chant itself, you fought an exalted march against my people for no reason other than we were winning against Orlais, you forced us off the lands granted to us by Andraste herself and now you want to breach your agreement. As always, the Chantry goes back on its word."

"How dare you! You did not make the original agree... excuse me."

Some what less than an hour later he returned yet again.

"Are you alright? We could speak later if you wish."

His lower parts hurt, his throat was dry and he was dizzy.

"I think that would be wise. I need liquid and rest."

"You also need calm. This mountain air can hit hard if you enflame yourself when you aren't accustomed to it."

"Perhaps that is it. We will speak later after I've rested."

"Of course."

After four days of weak tea and toast, deep breathing and unusually determined negotiating Brother Widden returned to the Chantry in Denerim, armed with a new agreement that gave the Chantry an additional copper for every pilgrim who entered Haven.


End file.
